March 10, 1989, Tokyo.
Although it was already early spring, the bitter wind still cut to the bone in this urban jungle of steel and concrete.
In stark contrast was the almost burning fever on the streets.
Only twenty days remained before the consumption tax bill would be officially implemented.
Shibuya, the first-floor lobby of the Seibu Department Store.
"The checkout is over here! Please line up! Don't push!" the sales assistant's voice was already hoarse. She held an "End of Line" sign, being pushed around by the surging crowd. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the sweat of thousands of people gathered together.
Rather than shopping, it was more like a looting spree, except that people were actually paying.
Guerlain perfume from France, Gucci handbags from Italy, and even Persian rugs priced at 500,000 yen had all become as cheap as bean sprouts in the eyes of the shoppers.
"This, this, and that — wrap them all up!" a middle-aged woman in a mink coat pointed at the last three pearl necklaces in the counter, speaking at an incredible speed. "Prices are going up next month anyway, so buying now is a profit! If I don't spend my husband's bonus, the government will just take it away in taxes!"
The cash register drawers popped open and shut with a rhythmic ding-ding sound.
This "if you don't buy, you lose" panic spread through Tokyo like a virus. From the high-end department stores of Ginza to the grocery shops of the Shitamachi, every glass window was plastered with red and white notices:
Final Clearance, Last Panic Buy Before Consumption Tax, Buy Now, Prices Rise in April.
Daiei Supermarket, Nerima Store.
This was the battlefield for housewives.
Shopping carts collided with a dull metallic thud. Soy sauce, toilet paper, and rice were swept off the shelves. Even expensive imported canned goods that usually went unnoticed were snatched up, leaving only empty cardboard boxes.
The store manager stood in the aisle, watching this frantic scene with an expression that was both pained and joyful.
Joyful because sales had hit a new record. Pained because the stock was gone.
"Manager! The cooking oil section is empty! Customers are arguing!"
"Manager! The warehouse stock is all gone! The purchasing department says the suppliers are out of stock!"
"Put up a sign! Sold out!" the manager wiped the greasy sweat from his face and gritted his teeth.
Looking at those empty shelves, he actually felt a sense of relief.
It was better to be sold out.
Once everything was sold, he wouldn't have to worry about the headache of calculating the complex inventory tax differences during the audit on March 31st.
This was the consensus across the entire retail industry: before that troublesome April 1st arrived, turn everything in hand into cash. Start light, even if it meant earning a little less, and clear the inventory to zero.
They were all gambling.
Gambling that the market would enter an ice age after April, and that the cash they held now was the safest thing.
At the same time.
Chiyoda Ward, Marunouchi.
Saionji Industries headquarters, Conference Room 1.
The blinds cut the midday sun into neat strips of light, projecting them onto the long mahogany conference table.
On the projection screen, sets of heart-pounding data flickered.
Red, all red upward arrows.
"This is insane," Managing Director Endo held a report that had just been printed, his fingers trembling slightly. "Daily sales across all Uniqlo stores have broken 100 million yen. Although S-Mart hasn't officially opened yet, we've already sold 50 million in pre-sale membership cards and vouchers alone."
"The situation with the convenience stores is even more exaggerated," Endo flipped a page. "The ordering systems for FamilyMart and Lawson are already redlining. All the franchise stores are frantically demanding stock. Especially those shelf-stable canned goods and daily necessities — they take as much as we can provide."
He looked up at the young girl sitting in the head seat.
Satsuki was wearing her Seika Academy uniform, twirling a deep blue Montblanc fountain pen.
"Young Lady," Endo pushed up his glasses, a hint of worry in his tone. "At this rate, the 1.2 million items of clothing we've stockpiled in the Chiba warehouse, as well as the potatoes and onions in the S-Farm cold storage, won't last until the end of the month."
"Should we control the pace a bit?"
"Control?" Satsuki stopped her pen.
She tilted her head slightly, looking at Endo with a faint curve at the corner of her mouth.
"Why should we control it?"
"But..." Endo hesitated, "Isn't our core strategy to play the 'no price hike' trump card on April 1st? If our current inventory is all snatched up, what will we use to fight the war then? Restocking at that time, the cost would be..."
"Managing Director Endo," Satsuki interrupted him softly.
She stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the city below that had fallen into a frenzy.
"Do you think there's any difference between money now and money in April?"
"Uh... it's all money."
"Exactly," Satsuki turned around, leaning against the glass, the sunlight gilding the edges of her hair. "Since the schools of fish are jumping onto the deck themselves now, why would we kick them back into the sea?"
"Daiei and Seibu are clearing stock because they are afraid. They fear the trouble of financial accounting across tax periods, they fear the market slump after April, and they fear being stuck with goods they can't sell."
"So they chose to take their profits and run."
Satsuki walked to the whiteboard, picked up a black marker, and drew a downward curve.
"They've emptied their warehouses, just like animals emptying their bowels before hibernation. Come April 1st, their shelves will be empty, but their funds will be ample. They think they are safe this way."
"But..." Satsuki's pen stroke shifted, drawing an upward arrow at the end of the curve. "What if at that time, there is a store whose shelves are always full?"
The conference room fell silent.
President Yanai sat at the table, his eyes fanatical. He seemed to have understood something.
"The Young Lady means..."
"We don't hibernate," Satsuki tossed the marker aside. "We binge."
"We will accept the current panic buying in full. Sell as much as there is, and suck in all the cash in the market."
"But, we will not clear stock," Satsuki leaned her hands on the table, her gaze scanning everyone present. "President Yanai."
"Present!"
"Notify Factory Director Takahashi in Shanghai. Tell him to open all those backup production lines. Three shifts, twenty-four hours a day, no stopping."
"Arrange an extra fund specifically to buy pork. Tell them that as long as they exceed their targets, they can have braised pork every meal. If they double their targets, give an extra portion of rice for every member of their household."
"I want him to produce another million T-shirts and sweatshirts for me within half a month. Even if we have to use air freight, get the goods to Tokyo before March 31st."
President Yanai sucked in a breath of cold air.
One million items. Air freight.
"Don't worry about the shipping costs," Satsuki seemed to see through his thoughts. "Current profits are enough to cover those costs. What I want is speed."
She turned to the other side.
"Shimomura."
Shimomura Tsutomu, sitting in the corner playing a handheld console, looked up and popped a bubble gum bubble.
"Can the supply chain system for S-Food hold up?"
"As long as the servers don't start smoking, I can keep it running," Shimomura Tsutomu shrugged. "However, if you're going to play this big, I suggest adding two more mainframes."
"Buy them," Satsuki answered decisively.
"Managing Director Endo."
"Yes."
"Call Chairman Iwamura in Hokkaido. Tell him that no matter how many potatoes are still in the ground, and no matter how many onions are hidden in the warehouses of his neighboring villages, I want them all. Even if he has to dig up next year's seeds, I'll take them."
"I want to fill every warehouse in Chiba Port."
"Fill them so tightly that not even a mouse can squeeze in."
Endo's heart pounded as he listened.
This was a massive gamble.
If they were frantically stocking up while also frantically shipping out, once the market truly entered an ice age after April 1st as predicted, this massive inventory would instantly become a giant cash flow black hole, dragging down the entire company.
"Young Lady... isn't the risk too great?" Endo advised, wiping his sweat. "All our competitors are contracting..."
"Precisely because they are contracting," Satsuki sat back in her chair and picked up her teacup. "On April 1st, when Daiei's shelves are empty, when Seibu's new stock is still floating at sea, and when customers have money but can't buy anything..."
"Only our doors will be open."
"Only our shelves will be full."
"And, we will put up that sign that says 'We'll pay the tax for you'."
Satsuki took a sip of black tea, her eyes shining.
"This is called a Saturation Strike."
"I'm going to use this mountain of goods to swallow the market share of our competitors, flesh and bone, in that spring that everyone thinks will be a slump."
"You must realize that even if the market slumps, that's only relative to the market as a whole. Even if 90% of consumer desire disappears, as long as we eat up the remaining 10% completely, we win."
"In an ice age where the whole of society doesn't want to buy things, the tiny bit of remaining purchasing desire will all flood toward the only place that hasn't raised prices."
"So, we don't need to create new demand. We just need to suck dry the remaining customer flow from our competitors."
Only the sound of breathing remained in the conference room.
A lunatic.
That was the thought in everyone's mind. But looking at that calm young girl, they felt an inexplicable shiver and excitement.
"Understood," President Yanai stood up and straightened his suit, the fanaticism in his eyes no longer hidden. "I'll call Shanghai right now. Even if I have to make the sewing machines smoke from overwork, I'll get those goods out for you."
"Go on," Satsuki waved her hand. "Let this greedy stomach be filled even more."
March 20, late night.
Chiba Port, S.A. Logistics Bonded Zone 1.
The sea wind howled, whipping up black waves that crashed against the pier.
The lights here were never extinguished.
Giant gantry cranes, like steel arms, tirelessly snatched containers from the cargo ships that had just docked and placed them heavily onto trailers.
Boom—
The containers landed, making the ground tremble slightly.
The doors opened to reveal cardboard boxes packed to the brim.
Cotton goods from Shanghai, root vegetables from Hokkaido, and daily necessities urgently diverted from Southeast Asia.
Forklifts scurried through the warehouse like a swarm of busy worker ants.
"Hurry up! Warehouse 3 is full! Stack it in Warehouse 4!" the storage supervisor shouted, his voice echoing in the vast port. "Over there! Don't block the way! That's an urgent shipment for Uniqlo's Shibuya store tomorrow morning!"
President Yanai stood on the second-floor platform of the warehouse, holding a walkie-talkie, his eyes completely bloodshot.
He hadn't been home for three days.
He looked at the busy scene below.
On one side was the shipping area, where trucks emblazoned with the S.A. logo were loaded with goods, roaring off to every corner of Tokyo to fill that bottomless market black hole.
On the other side was the receiving area, where a continuous stream of supplies flooded in like a tide, rapidly filling the gaps left after the shipments.
Intake and output.
This giant warehouse was like a lung breathing heavily.
Every breath was the sound of money flowing.
"Truly spectacular..." Shimomura Tsutomu appeared beside him at some point, holding a laptop with green data streams flickering on the screen. "Current throughput is already three times what it was last month. System load is at 98%."
Shimomura Tsutomu chewed his gum and pointed at the screen.
"Look at the data for Daiei."
He switched windows to show a curve that was plummeting like a cliff.
"Their intake stopped two weeks ago. Now they are just clearing inventory. At this rate, their main stores will be out of stock in about three days."
President Yanai looked at the curve, a cold sneer appearing at the corner of his mouth.
"They are committing suicide..."
"Exactly." Shimomura Tsutomu closed his laptop. "In this game, only the one with the most cards in hand has the right to speak. Even if those cards can't be played for the moment."
March 24, late night.
Bunkyo Ward, Saionji Main Family Residence.
Shuichi walked into the study and saw Satsuki standing by the desk.
Spread out on the desk was a giant newspaper proof — the full-page advertisement for the Yomiuri Shimbun that would be printed and sent all over Tokyo tomorrow morning.
Black background, white font.
No fancy patterns, only a simple, blunt, yet powerful declaration sufficient to shock the entire retail industry:
Consumption Tax? We'll Pay It for You.
S-Mart & Uniqlo Promise: From April 1st, all products will maintain their original prices.
Satsuki reached out her finger and gently stroked that line of bold text.
"Father," she said softly. "The ammunition is loaded."
Shuichi looked at the advertisement and took a deep breath.
He knew that once this paper was sent out tomorrow, the consequences would be staggering.
The Retail Association would protest, the MITI would be shocked, and competitors would go insane.
But consumers would cheer.
"Tomorrow..." Shuichi's voice was a bit low, "it will be a fierce battle."
"A fierce battle?" Satsuki looked up at the pitch-black night sky outside the window. There were no stars, only the faint red light reflected back by the city. "I don't think so."
She turned around, rolled up the proof, and held it in her hand like a scepter.
"Let all of Tokyo see who the true conscientious enterprise is."